#4 Reason not to Drink for 90 Days: Save Money
All the beers I like to drink are expensive compared to Coors and other stank beers. It costs a lot of money to buy good beer. We have a much bigger rent than we used to. In fact, this week is going to be a mega-squeeze and we wouldn’t have been able to afford to drink beer anyway. We would have resorted to drinking two (and a half) buck Chuck which we do when we’re really low on money but we always end up going back to beer the second we can afford it. We really can’t afford to drink good beer now. Even when 3 months is done we won’t have a lot of leeway so this is better. We may as well get used to taking beer out of the regular budget. At least, not in the quantities we go through it.
So I haven’t had any beer for 3 days now. Why haven’t I lost 10lbs already? How come my skin isn’t magically more clear and my eyes more bright? How come I’m not farting fairies and riding on the backs of angels? WHY IS EVERYTHING STILL EXACTLY THE SAME EXCEPT MORE BORING?
Don’t answer that. I just feel like shouting at people who are always extolling the magical benefits of sobriety as though it will instantly transport you to a better place. It’s the same kind of evangelical fuzzy talk that paleo-diet people try to sell you. Same as the anti-gluten crowd who believes that everyone is allergic to gluten and just haven’t discovered it yet. Obviously your blood isn’t transformed in just three days. Magical benefits of all the great health crazes take time. I know this. It’s just that I feel like yelling right now because I’m neither madly craving beer nor feeling the least bit virtuous or physically better for not having had any alcohol for three days. The chest cold is certainly holding me hostage for the time being.
A little later.
My dinner was disappointing. The mediocrity of it offended me. It was a Thai curry. I used a curry paste I bought from the Thai market the other day. I’ve already confessed my true feelings about Thai and other Asian food traditions here. I don’t like them very much in general. I’m a Middle Eastern and Mediterranean food person. But I love Asian markets and Asian culture so I feel that I should love Asian food. Plus all the people I know who love it – but we’ve already had that conversation. Anyway. It’s Friday night and I’m not having beer. I’m sick, so it’s not like I really want it. My body can do without it. But having a disappointing dinner means that there’s nothing else to look forward to tonight. There’s no Friday fun. No festive beverage. So I just bitched and moaned about it for an hour on Facebook. Having a disappointing dinner made it seem extra depressing that I’m not having any beer.
I’m on a bit of a downward spiral. How does one look forward to drinking tea? I can drink tea any time of day I want. I can drink as many cups as I please any time I want. There’s nothing special about it. My resolve to not drink is in no danger of cracking. But that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it, do I?
I’m also incredibly grouchy because for 24 hours now my throat and upper chest have been scratchy and itchy without any relief. Usually ricolas help and they have, a little bit, but not enough. I got almost no sleep last night. I clear my throat about 10 times a minute and try to cough to relieve this awful feeling. But it won’t go away and it’s freaking me the fuck out. When I cough it makes me want to gag. This being sick gig is messed up. And now Max thinks he’s getting sick. So – major bummer.
So there’s nothing to look forward to any more except morning coffee. Which, as I’ve said a hundred times but will repeat in case anyone has missed it, is 2/3 decaf because I can’t have much caffeine or I get palpitations. So it’s not the caffeine. It’s the great flavor that I love so much. Hot black coffee with no sugar. 3 cups a day. And I can’t drink coffee in the evenings. Again, not a caffeine issue. I just can’t.
I had a whole huge rant in this post that I erased. It would have irritated at least 10 people I know. I didn’t have the energy to smooth it out and shape it and curate the points I make like I often do. It’s a small miracle I even got dressed today.
The nothingness of my evening stretches out in front of me. Or, at least, I think it does. It’s hard to see what isn’t there. I guess I’ll go check on my kid and then maybe I’ll crawl into bed and not sleep. It’s only 7:45pm and I haven’t slept much for 3 days but what else is there to do? If I don’t get into bed my catatonic stare will seem more weird.
When there is no beer I hate evenings. I hate them. This is good, actually. This bitter enmity I feel about the hours between 5pm and midnight. It means that I will retreat to bed and begin staring at the wall much earlier than I’m used to and eventually (I hope) I may just train my body to get to sleep earlier so that I can get up at 5am and start writing. Training myself to sleep earlier didn’t work when I was a kid, nor when I was a teen, nor when I was a young adult, nor when I was an older adult. So it’s a stretch to believe that I can train it to change its feelings about early sleep times in my middle age. But this is what I’m going to cling to right now. This hope that I can make my evenings almost non-existent and instead enjoy my quiet down-time at the other end when dawn approaches. It’s a magnificent time.
Alright, off to stare at the wall.